“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”
Remi shifts his body so he’s fully facing me, his back to theengine.Lowering his voice, he says, “There’s somethin’ I want to ask ya before we go, but keep quiet about it.”
“Right, because I’m such a town gossip,” I tease. “What’s up?”
Breathing out a laugh, Remi throws a quick look over his shoulder before bringing his attention to me. “Was hopin’ you could talk to Daddy Moore about renting out one of the spare cabins y’all got.”
“Why?” My brows pinch, but my curiosity is piqued. “For who?”
“Ford,” Remi all but whispers, like the captain’s got supersonic hearing. “He’s goin’ through a divorce and has been staying at the firehouse while he looks for a place to live. I think one of the cabins would be a perfect temporary spot for him until something else comes up.”
Oh shit, divorce? My curiosity is more than piqued now.
“Kind of a big ask, my guy,” I drawl, groaning dramatically and rolling my eyes, as if the idea of having a newly single,fine-ass specimen of a man living on the property would put me out whatsoever. “But I suppose I could do that for you.”
“Oh, please,” Remi scoffs with a shake of his head.
“I’m just kiddin’.” I laugh. “Of course, I’ll talk to my dad. Shouldn’t be a problem, man.”
“Cool, thanks. And remember, keep quiet.”
I mock solute my friend. “Yes, sir.”
“Thanks.” Remi strolls down the stairs, throwing me a glance over his shoulder once he reaches the bottom. “And no more fuckin’ fires. People are goin’ to start thinkin’ y’all are doin’ it on purpose.”
“Yup, The Moore men—cattle ranchers by day, pyrotechnics by night.” I chuckle. Several months back, our barn caught on fire—an electrical issue—and the whole town came together to help us repair it. That one was a hell of a lot bigger than this one, but thankfully, nothing catastrophic. We got lucky. The damage could’ve been a lot worse. “And who knows, maybe I’m startin’ the fires as an excuse to see my very best friend, who never makes time for me.”
Remi barks out a laugh that’s contagious. “Because hangin’ outseveraldays a week for sure qualifies as never makin’ time, ya fuckin’ dramatic fool.”
“If y’all are about done gabbin’ like a coupla old bitties, can we get this show on the road, Buchanan?” Ford shouts.
“Yeah,Buchanan,can’t keep him waiting.” I snort as Remi pins me with an unamused look and flips me off.
“Comin’ Cap!”
As he jogs away from me toward the engine, I wave at Ford, who’s staring at me through the windshield with an expression I can’t quite place. Whatever it is, though, doesn’t look pleasant. “Thanks for the assistance!” I call out, biting back a laugh at the scowl on his face as they driveoff.
Shit, who pissed in his Cheerios this morning?
Remembering what Remi shared with me about Ford’s situation, his mooddoesmake sense, I guess. Not that I have any experience as far as marriages and divorces go, nor do I ever plan on it. But I’d imagine going through something like that would probably make anybody a little grouchy.
Still, he should really work on that resting bitch face.
Three
Ford
DoctorDickedDown: Trying to meet up and fuck tonight?
CrownJewels: Let me set the scene for you, big guy: You. Me. An epic horror movie marathon. Couple of beers. Maybe we pop an edible or two, depending on how frisky you’re trying to get. Then we spend the night seeing who can make the other cum the most before tapping out. All I need to know is, your place or mine?
SirDicksALot: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, sexy. ;)
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, tossing my phone on the bed beside me before scrubbing a hand down my face. This app is a fucking joke. It’s barely been two days, and so far, almost every message I’ve received is way too forward for my liking, creepy, or downright disturbing. How are people finding anybody actually worth meeting? A relationship isn’t exactly what Ishould be searching for, but this no-emotion, damn near clinical, quick fuck hook-up culture that seems to be prevalent these days isn’t what I want either.
If I wasn’t still so hellbent on Remi not finding out about this, I’d chew his ass out for giving me such a god-awful suggestion. But no, I can’t tell him, nor would I want to even if I could. Not only is it wildly unprofessional for me—his superior—to share personal information in regard to my dating life, but this experience has already been dreadful enough. The last thing I need is to add humiliation on top of it when he finds out I am horrible at this.
My phone lights up with what I can only assume is either another wildly perverted proposition or a random, unsolicited nude from the most piss-poor angle. As I stare at the notification, I consider, not for the first time, deleting my profile altogether. While I’m sure Remi was right when he said there are tons of men my age on there, the more I swipe, the more I truly don’t think this is for me. I’m not cut out for the modern technology aspect of dating. Call me old-fashioned, or just plain old, maybe, but meeting somebody in person and getting to know them the way I used to back in the day sounds exponentially better than this crap shoot I’ve managed to land myself in. It’s not like there aren’t ample opportunities to meet somebody organically in my line of work. Not only have I known several colleagues on the force who have found their partner through work, but it’s also how I met Trent. Back when I was a relatively fresh face at the Wolf Creek Fire Department—way before I made captain, or even lieutenant—my crew responded to a call about somebody stuck in the elevator at the doctor’s office Trent worked at. He didn’t join the force until a few years later.
